"Really, Edgar, you expect a great deal. I could hardly be expected to gain you the Presidency in six weeks, with nothing to aid me but my own efforts."
"Hardly; but this is not exactly what is required of you. It seems to me that you might hasten matters a little more."
"Can you bring matters to a focus in a week?"
"No--in two weeks," continuing her writing without looking up.
Braine goes out. As the curtain falls behind him she drops her pen, and rising, begins to pace the floor restlessly. She is suddenly wretched. She hates Everet. She has a mad desire to rush after Braine, and throw herself into his arms. With it all, she feels herself rebuffed, humiliated.
She seems to have entirely dropped out of Braine's life, save so far as she contributes to his success and advancement--for this is not the only matter she has been handling successfully in the last two months.
She leans her head wearily against the mantel, and sobs softly to herself. She is so wrapt up in her own wretchedness that she is oblivious of everything else, and does not hear Everet as he crosses the floor.
He stands a moment looking at her in surprise. Then the expression on his face becomes one of anxiety, pain, tenderness. He approaches her softly, and says in a low tone:
Helen starts and raises her head. She does not look up, but stands with her back to him as she dries the tears, and tries to control her voice. She says--for want of something better:
Everet is silent a moment, then lays his hand on her arm. His touch is delicate. There is a subtle tenderness about it.
She suddenly starts, and turns ghastly. She looks up at him with something like fright and appeal in her face, and he does not comprehend the look. She flings his hand away with a fierce movement.
Everet steps back. He looks at her now flushed face in astonishment. She says hoarsely:
"Never do that again. Do you hear? Never touch me again!"
Everet feels that there is a little injustice in her tone. He has been a constant visitor at this house for weeks. He has done no more than any acquaintance, who knew her more than slightly, might have done under the circumstances. He steps back, and says coldly:
"I beg your pardon," and turns toward the door.